Coward
by Angel Frog
Summary: Harry tells Dumbledore where he went wrong. Kind of dark.


Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. Did you think he was?

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It's funny. It's taken me so long, so very long. So long to realize what you did. So long to realize just how much of a fool you really were. They all thought you were wise, and good, and none of them saw the fool, the coward, that was there inside of you. I almost didn't see it myself, but then you are a master of disguise. Only a master would be able to make the world think of you as both a fool and a hero without anybody seeing that you are also a coward.

Five years. That's how long it took. Admittedly, I was just a child the first year. An angry, wary child who had learned his lesson too young, but still just a child. I had grown up knowing that adults were monsters, though some were slightly less monstrous than others. I knew that adults weren't the only monsters, too. Dudley was a pretty good example of that, though he was always more of a bully than a monster. It can be hard to tell the two apart, and I hadn't learned the distinction yet.

Then I met Hagrid, and he showed me that maybe all adults _weren't_ monsters after all, and I began to hope.

I should have known. I really should have known. I found out that not all adults are monsters, but that is also the year when I found out that there is also blindness, and in some ways that's worse than being a monster.

For a long time, I thought Professor Severus Snape was a monster. Turns out he's just blind. Blind to the fact that I'm Harry, not James. But I'm not here to talk about him. He never really mattered, and at this point I doubt he ever will. Don't give me that look, Professor. We both know that if he wasn't useful you'd never have taken him into your school, to teach your students.

Where was I? Oh yeah, blindness. I didn't think you were blind. After all, you were this great and powerful wizard, practically all-knowing in the eyes of your students and even some of the teachers. I should have known. You'd _have_ to be blind to wear some of the things I've seen you in, after all.

Amazing how much of a fool I was, eh? But you knew that, and you used it.

Second year was the Chamber of Secrets. It was also when I found out another facet of adults. There were so many that were monsters, even more that were blind, but this was my first encounter with a genuine fool.

Did you know I was awake, that night in the Hospital Wing? Did you know that I heard every word? Maybe it doesn't matter, but I have wondered. Of course, you couldn't have known what would happen. You couldn't have known that I'd be there, or that Colin Creevey would be the next one to be petrified, but I have no doubt that you were quick to turn it to your advantage.

After all, you didn't see a twelve-year-old boy who was having all the bones in his right arm re-grown because of your latest DADA teacher. You only saw your pawn, the one you'd use to defeat Voldemort.

I think third year was the closest I ever came to the possibility of being happy. Because here, there was a man who was not a monster or blind or a fool. He was simply a man, who had been best friends with my father when they were in school. He didn't try to lord it over me, or anything like that. He simply liked to talk to me.

Sirius escaped that year. Well, before that school year if you want to be technical, but that doesn't really matter. The point is that he was the first person to ever escape Azkaban. One of those poor souls who was innocent, though everyone thought him guilty.

I sometimes wonder if you did that on purpose, by the way. Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban without a trial, and I think it must have been at least partially your fault. Can you take the blame for inaction? I think so. It wouldn't have taken more than a few minutes to talk to someone, and convince them to give him a trial.

Remus was too hurt and angry, and they wouldn't have listened to him if he had suggested it. I've talked to him more recently, and he told me that a lot of it was because of feeling betrayed. He hadn't known that Sirius had suggested they switch Secret Keepers, though he told me that it sounded like something Sirius would do.

All he knew at the time was that his pack had been betrayed, and it was a member of his pack that had done the betraying. He was right, of course, he just hadn't known which pack member had betrayed them all, and resulted in the death—real or not—of three of his pack. The fourth was sent to jail, and that was that. He must have been so alone all those years, but he's never wanted to talk about it. I don't really blame him.

Then, of course, you offered him the opportunity to be a professor, something he must have once dreamed of.

Let's move on to fourth, shall we? That was the Triwizard Tournament, if you're as senile and forgetful as some think. I know you're not, but that hardly matters. Anyway, that was the year I was entered into the tournament, even though by the rules you'd set I was too young. That hardly mattered. After all, you're Dumbledore, Great Leader of the Light, and all that rubbish.

I'm still not sure how I managed to get through the First Task. Luck maybe, or maybe it was the fact that Professor McGonagall was right in my first year. I _am_ a natural at flying. And despite the fact that some would call it arrogance to say that, I think it's simply fact. Flying is one of the few things I'd miss if I ever abandoned the Wizarding World.

Oh, calm down. I'm not leaving, yet.

Caught that, did you? Not surprising, I suppose. Though I'm honestly not sure why you're surprised. Mostly thanks to you, I have no future in the Wizarding World. Of course, Voldemort is also to blame.

You don't understand, do you? I suppose I should be surprised, but I'm not. It doesn't matter. I'll explain in a minute, anyway.

We've gotten off track, haven't we? Doesn't matter that much, I suppose, but that's okay. We were in Fourth year still, weren't we? Do you know the worst part of that year? It wasn't watching Voldmort be resurrected, though many people would make that mistake. Understandable, I suppose. It wasn't any of the tasks, either. It was that moment when we'd, no, when _I'd_ returned with Cedric's body.

Cedric could have been a friend, you know. Hell, he could have been more. I wouldn't have minded. Grow up like I did, and you don't much care about the sex of a potential partner. I might have fallen in love with a man simply to spite the Dursley's. Still might.

I saw that wince. Is it possible that even now you might have some feeling of guilt? That you might have finally realized exactly what you did? I doubt it, but I've been surprised before.

I told you it took me five years to realize what you are, didn't I? Yeah, I did. Fifth year was the worst, I think. You ignored me, avoided me, and not once did you look me in the eye. I hated it, and I think that's when I began to hate you, too.

Surprised? Don't be.

You told me to take Occlumency lessons with Snape. It's funny, but until I did I didn't really understand just how blind he was. He saw everything, but he refused to believe it. How did that saying go? 'There are none so blind as those who refuse to see'? Something like that. I can't remember who said it, and it really doesn't matter, either.

I was so angry that year. I couldn't understand, and I got so frustrated. Unlike some, I was at least _trying_ to understand. I could name so many who never did. Fudge, Umbridge, Snape… and you. Some would say that you _did_ try, but they'd be wrong. You never tried to understand, you just pretended that you already did. Maybe you even fooled yourself a bit. I don't know and it really doesn't matter.

Sirius died that year. Heh, a flinch. I've sometimes wondered if you're made of stone, unable to flinch at even the most cutting barbs. I probably should have known I was wrong, I just haven't seen you flinch before. I'm used to looking for flinching, you know.

If Aunt Petunia flinched, she'd probably do something like give me extra chores, screech at me, and tell Uncle Vernon so he'd add whatever he thought was a 'just' punishment. If Uncle Vernon flinched, he might hit me or throw me in the cupboard, or both. When I was still very young, I learned what made them flinch so I could avoid it. Then I could just deal with the 'normal' load of whatever they felt like making me do from day to day.

Even after that whole year, even after Sirius died, I might not have seen just what kind of man you are, what kind of monster. But then you told me the prophecy, told me that I must either die or kill Voldemort. That was the last straw. The straw that broke the camel's back, you might say.

From the very first time I saw you, there was some doubt in the back of my mind, something that suggested that you weren't exactly looking out for my best interests. I'd ignored it, and pushed back all of the doubts that piled up in my mind. I might have been able to ignore them a little longer, but you told me the prophecy. After all that, you finally proved me right. And I hated you for it.

When I was a child, all adults were monsters. It was a very simple view, but one that had served me well enough. I came to Hogwarts, and I found that not every adult was a monster. Some were just blind, or fools. I had never met anyone who was all three.

You're a blind fool, Dumbledore, but you're also a monster. After all, only a monster would be willing to try to destroy a child's spirit. Whether directly or by proxy, deliberately or not, you did just that.

You are blind, you are a fool, and you are a monster. All of that, and there's only one word I can think of to describe you. You are a coward, Dumbledore, and you sent a child to fight a monster. Congratulations, Dumbledore. I'm not a child anymore. I don't think I ever was.

Goodbye, Albus Dumbledore. I am going to go fulfill my purpose, and kill Voldemort. If there is any justice in the world, you will never see me again. If there is any mercy, I will never see you. Because next time, I won't just tie you up and gag you with rope made impervious to magic. I won't talk, and then leave you to rot in an abandoned cellar, hoping that you will be rescued before you die of dehydration and starvation. I won't leave you to wonder if this is how I always felt as a child. I'll simply kill you and be done with it.

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AN: I'm not sure where this came from, exactly. I don't think I've ever used this particular style, but it was the one the story demanded. Sounds kind of funny, but it's true. I don't come up with the stories, I just write them down. This one's a bit darker than I usually do, but I think I like it.

(Edit: Made some minor revisions. Nothing big.)


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